


Screw the Mayor

by reginaldthegreat



Category: ginny & georgia
Genre: Angst, Engagement, F/M, also i get yalls obsession with marcus but JOE, listen I just want georgia to end up with joe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:02:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29776566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reginaldthegreat/pseuds/reginaldthegreat
Summary: Just because Georgia is engaged, doesn’t mean Joe doesn’t wish things were different.
Relationships: Georgia Miller/Joe, Georgia Miller/Paul Randolph
Comments: 3
Kudos: 69





	Screw the Mayor

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck.

Joe certainly did not want to be there. Well, it seemed like half of him did, the part of him that wanted to support the quick-witted blonde that burst into his café with a honey-tipped southern drawl and a subtle ulterior motive. 

Motive being to exploit his business for free packets of sugar and wine. And dinner-for-twos to auction off. And much more that was slipping his mind in the current moment because the other half of him, the half that _didn’t_ want to be there, was doing it’s best to make itself known. 

His stomach had this heavy, burning weight at the bottom. Like an anchor thrown off a ship and he definitely didn’t have the capacity for a ton of metal against his intestines. Do anchors even weigh a ton?

“You look like you’re lost in thought,” Georgia cooed, sidling up to him, rosé in hand. He did his best to avoid the painfully obvious glint of the fat diamond on her finger, but under the fairy lights, it was blinding. “Everything alright there, Joe?”

He chuckled humorlessly, hoping that she wouldn’t catch on to the fact that he was _not_ okay. Not when she was marrying... that asshole. 

He glanced at Paul and his too-white smile. What was that that Ginny had said about her English class? Oh yeah, that it was like a Crest commercial. Well, lucky for her, she was about to be living in one.

“I’m fine,” Joe replied, folding his arms behind his back despite the protest of the suit fabric around his biceps. “This setup is beautiful. I don’t understand how you always manage to pull off events like this on such short notices. It’s witchcraft.”

“Please, you’re the one casting a spell on these guests with your _lovely_ spinach quiche bites. Blue Farm’s become a home to me, you know,” she said, a glittery eye pinching shut in a wink. 

“Well, it’s felt even more like home ever since you arrived in town,” he admitted. Yes, the words were more intimate than would typically be tossed about between friends, but this was _Georgia_. If the conversation didn’t sound at least a little flirtatious, was it really her he was speaking to? 

“Aww, that’s _cute_ of you,” she teased. 

Now, marrying another man was a different thing, but Joe couldn’t stand when she teased him like that. Not when he was thinking about her for years, ever since he was a kid, wondering if Georgia from Georgia would ever show up in Massachusetts. 

Even if he meant nothing to her, she certainly meant something to him. 

“Don’t,” he mumbled quietly as he shoved his hands in his pockets and stared down at the reflection of the lights in the black leather of his dress shoes. 

“What was that? You know I think you’re _cute_ when you get all shy like that-“

“Don’t,” he said, louder this time. He had torn his eyes away from the ground, instead fixating on the hazel of her eyes. The intensity of his own voice startled him, but mouth was moving of its own accord. It felt like he was outside himself almost, if not for the churning of the waves inside him. 

Georgia seemed equally stunned by his sudden urgency. 

“Don’t what?” she asked. She didn’t seem hurt, only curious and confused. 

They stared at each other, unblinking. 

“Don’t... don’t call me ‘cute’,” he finally said. “N-not that I don’t like being called ‘cute’. I just... I can’t. Not by you.”

Before he could watch the middle of her dark eyebrows tilt up in concern, before her red lips could part in surprise, he looked away. 

“I’m going to go see if the quiches ran out,” he muttered, not giving her a chance to react. He couldn’t have any more of it today. Not when he felt like his lungs were going to catch fire inside him. Not when she was marrying _him_.


End file.
